


Finishing Together

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brother/Sister Incest, Camping, F/M, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Guilty Pleasures, Incest, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Orgasm, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Repressed Feelings, Secret Desires, Sibling Incest, Sneaking Around, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Prompt fill from asoiafrarepairs on Tumblr:Robbsa & Masturbation





	Finishing Together

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to sansafeels for this lovely mood board!!
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153108798@N02/42582565962/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

Sansa narrowed her eyes to stare at the bland army green wall of the tent and sighed. The light from her lantern showcased the bug crawling up the canvas and she briefly debated on whether or not to kill it or shoo it out of the tent, but she couldn't be bothered, since that would mean having to get up and she was snuggled into her sleeping bag.

Instead of obsessing over a woodland pest, she focused instead on her little bouquet of Wood's Roses in her hand, bringing them to her nose for the scent, and she smiled a little, trying to shift a bit on her side. She preferred to sleep on her stomach but with four of them in a tent and Arya taking up nearly half of it, there was little room to be had without invading Robb's personal space. Even now she was only inches away from his blue sleeping bag where he was restless even in sleep. She could hear his movements and suddenly she tensed, even as her fingertips reflectively touched the flower petals. Beside Robb, Bran had passed out almost immediately, half in, half out of his bedding, facing the opposite side of the tent, and Arya was nearly pushed up against the tent panel, her legs and arms spread like she was skydiving in her sleep. 

She was a little envious of her younger brother and sister's ability to pass out and enter a deep sleep in the middle of the woods. Rickon had abandoned them for Mom and Dad's tent which was right beside theirs and Sansa wondered if she should do the same for her own sanity. How many years have they done this? Since she could remember. Mom and Dad insisted on a yearly family outing to be one with nature and insisted on "roughing it" every single time. No cabin or camper for them; just tents and the wild outdoors. The others still loved it, even Robb, but Sansa's delicate sensibilities became less and less enthusiastic as she grew older. Now at sixteen, she cringed at the thought of no fluffy bed, no WiFi, no modern amenities, and no boyfriend. Well, not that she had a boyfriend currently, and that was probably a good thing.

It was a very good thing, considering her state of mind right now.

Swallowing hard, she gently laid the flowers down. 

Robb had picked them for her when they had been walking in the woods after Sansa grew tired of chasing and being chased in the games Arya and Rickon wanted to play. Namely, Princess and Princes and Dragons and Knights. She wondered of this might be the last time Robb would play the game, as he was newly eighteen, but he seemed to not mind Arya, Rickon, and Bran's antics; he wholeheartedly played the brave Knight, just as he did when he was still just a kid. It seemed so silly at first, Robb being a man grown still acting so immature, but his Knight role did not end after Bran, Arya, and Rickon tired of it and went off to do some exploring. Robb knew how to cheer her; he knew she dreaded the camping trips and presenting her with the Wood's Roses was sweet, thoughtful. Nothing wrong with that.

Nothing at all.

It was the way she felt when he tucked a pale pink flower behind her ear that startled her; the way he looked at her for a moment, his sparkling blue eyes lowering to her lips and then even further, only for a few seconds and maybe - just maybe - she was mistaken. It didn't feel brotherly and his expression didn't seem brotherly either; she had shivered a little before thanking him. He had smiled his beautiful smile before he stripped off his shirt to jump in the lake, his modesty reflected in the pair of shorts he still wore. Her heart completely stopped for a moment when he ran in, fearing he would drop trou and skinny dip. When he did not, she found herself a little disappointed and hated herself for it. When he turned around and asked her if she wanted to come in she dropped her butt on the ground and managed to shake her head no, her hair falling down to hopefully hide her shame and embarrassment and horror. Still her eyes couldn't help but drink him in; wet auburn curls pushed back, chest wet and tanned with the slightest hint of chest hair, abs flexing. Even as she felt a little dirty over it, her body didn't seem to think it was all too wrong and she could feel herself becoming excited in all the very wrong places.

It wasn't the first time she looked at Robb a little differently but it was the first time she thought he might have looked at her in a different way, too. She thought it happened again when he grew bored of being the only one enjoying the water, stomping back onto solid ground and flopping onto his back in the grass next to her. They always had an easy compatibility, a sort of uncanny ability to know what each other was thinking just by expressions or eye contact. He had reached for her hand and held it, nothing unusual to her. Yet for a moment, when he was yammering on about things she couldn't now recall, he turned his face away from her and his fingers lightly caressed the palm of her hand. It thrilled her but she had yanked her hand away and stood up as if she was burned by fire, and she did probably the worst thing she could have done; she ran away from him while his words of protest and pleading stung her ears. The rest of the evening she avoided him like the plague, refusing to look at him, knowing she would meet a pair of hurt and bewildered eyes.

It wasn't his fault his sister was a freak.

They had started out the order of the sleeping bags as Robb, Bran, Arya, and Sansa, but then Arya kicked up a fuss being next to Sansa, and then next to Robb, so the only solution was to have her move to the end, with Bran next. Sansa didn't feel like being sandwiched in between her brothers so she chose the end. All through the upheaval and during their parents yelling at them to just get to bed, Robb avoided her eyes and didn't talk to her directly, although at some point while nestled in his sleeping bag he had shucked off his shorts which Sansa knew left him in only his black boxer briefs. She only knew that because they hit the tent wall and ended up about six inches from her head. At least they had dried from the lake but she resisted the urge to snatch them up and smack him over the head with them.

She knew Robb was sleeping by the change in his breathing; he didn't typically snore but his breath always deepened. Her left side was starting to ache from the tent floor and hard ground, so she flipped over to her right, clutching the top of her sleeping bag. Her pink flowered sleeping bag that Robb always made fun of for being so...well, pink.

The light of her lantern was bright enough to light up her side of the tent as she stared at Robb, encased in a half-shadow. He laid on his back, bare-chested with one arm flung over his eyes as the other lay limp outside of his sleeping bag, which was unzipped and the top opened down to his waist. He never did like to be covered up, not even now when there was a slight chill from the autumn air.

He was handsome even in a stressful sleep. His arms were filling out now, his biceps prevalent since he started working out with Theon at the local gym every other day. His arm across his eyes only accentuated his wide mouth and full, sensuous lips. He has a strong neck and broad shoulders for being on the slim side, and her eyes couldn't help but fall down to his hand lying passively at his side. Yes, it was wrong to wonder what his hand might feel like touching her, but sometimes she would, at night in bed alone. He never had to know that, did he? He really did have nice hands with long fingers and his nails were trimmed down and neat. They wouldn't scratch her like hers sometimes accidentally did when she laid in bed in the dark and brought herself to a climax. Was it so wrong to wonder -

Sansa bit her lip so hard she thought she tasted rust as she laid on her back, her head twisting to the right on the pillow, staring at her brother, watching his chest rise in fall. She wanted to reach out - he was so close, she could - just reach out and touch his hand, maybe bring his fingers to her lips, but that was wrong. Even more wrong to want to guide his fingers somewhere else to help alleviate the ache she's had since he gave her those flowers. Or maybe it was even before that. Would he think her sick? Was her imagination playing tricks on her today? Maybe she was seeing what she wanted to see and he had only brotherly intentions. But she would swear she has seen other boys look at her that way and it was not platonic. It was like he wanted to kiss her. 

Or more.

Maybe her right hand slid down under the sleeping bag, past her flimsy shelf-bra tank top to her terrycloth pink drawstring shorts. Maybe her fingers untied the string to loosen them up so she could slip her hand down into them, into her simple white panties, to glide a finger down her slit. Her heart raced as she gazed upon her brother, so attractive and yet so very, very forbidden to her. Guilt crept up inside of her but not enough to make her want to stop. She felt flushed with the danger of him waking up, of him seeing her with her hand starting to move up and down on her clit. There was no way he could not know what she was doing if he caught her.

It made her feel a little bit deliciously wicked. Naughty. Something no one would ever think about Sansa Stark. 

She licked her lips, her breath becoming heavy as her legs tightened while she massaged, dipping down to feel how wet she was starting to become. Wet, aroused, and all because her brother gave her flowers and touched the palm of her hand. 

Closing her eyes, Sansa concentrated on the feeling, moving faster, visualizing Robb leaning over to snake his own hand down her shorts, his tapered fingers sliding into her even as hers did. She was swollen now, and messy, but she couldn't cum. Was it shame preventing her?

The prickle on the back of her neck forced her eyes open and she gasped, her breath caught with her head swimming. _Robb was awake_. He was _awake_. His arm no longer covered his eyes and his head was turned toward her. Oh god, those blue eyes were dark and large in the dim light, his mouth slightly opened as if he meant to say something. 

Sansa froze, too scared to say anything as she jerked her head back onto the pillow to first stare at the tent ceiling and then to close her eyes. She dared not move her hand or else he would really know what it had been doing. She prayed silently that maybe she stopped just in time, maybe he had just opened his eyes. Maybe he would just go back to sleep.

Seconds, minutes, an hour. She didn't know how long it was before she dared to open her eyes again, but she heard the rustling of his sleeping bag and hoped he passed back out. She fluttered one eye open and she was thankful she was already lying down because she would have swooned.

There was no doubt in her mind as to what he was doing.

He was still staring at her, his head still turned towards her and still on his back, but his arm was down under his covers and an unmistakable movement rippled underneath. His other hand gripped a handful of the sleeping bag as if he were holding on for dear life. Or maybe he was restraining himself from reaching out for her. She could only hope in her wildest dreams. What would she do if he decided to touch her? Realistically she would probably be shy and scared but oh, in her dreams she would grab him, pull him outside, maybe lead him back to the edge of the lake so he could finish her off where there was no danger of being seen or heard.

Quickly she smashed her eye shut only to open both of them to the sight again, only now Robb had a small smirk on his face. No, not a smirk. A smile. A sexy, all-knowing smile and it conveyed all she wanted - and needed - to know. He might be jacking off in a sleeping bag in a tent occupied by his siblings, but it was the hottest thing Sansa had ever seen. His grin and the heat in his eyes told her all of her suspicions were true; he gave credence to her thoughts just by that look, just by that expression. He did not stop, he did not turn away from her and she didn't want him to stop.

She didn't want to stop, either.

Brave now but still shy, she moved her fingers again, surprised she was even more wet than before, and it took no time at all to build back up again. She had to bite her lip to prevent from whining, from begging for him to touch her. No words, no touching. It should have felt empty and cold and lonely but it felt sexy, intense, trusting. It felt like love. Love and understanding and even though she was getting herself off to her brother getting himself off, somehow it felt all kinds of right.

Somehow, looking at him, his face taut with desire and hunger yet so soft with tenderness at the same time, her own hand ceased to be hers. It was his. He was touching her, arousing her, pleasuring her. The heat flushed her skin and overwhelmed her as she watching him pick up his pace and then seemingly halt, his breath coming out in shallow pants. She could tell he was struggling to be quiet but was confused as to why he would stop, until a slight nod conveyed the reason.

Of course.

Even with this he could not drop his protectiveness, could not leave his brotherly instinct behind for ten minutes of pure sexual pleasure. Even here he was considerate and patient as he always was with her. With him it was never a race to see who would finish first. With Robb it was always about finishing together. Even in this.

Sansa moved faster, abandoning her hole to mercilessly rub her clit. Her breath became too rapid, too loud, but so did his as he worked himself again. She could see the covers rapidly moving, could see the raised material hiding his protruding cock. From the stokes of his hand he must be of a good size and she was curious to know more. Wanting to see. But there was no time and this was not the place, so she gave herself over to the building inside of her, the tension from her legs spreading throughout her whole body as she arched up, chasing it, locking eyes with Robb as he did the same. 

She fought the urge to close her eyes; she did not want to lose sight of him while she orgasmed. She lost the battle for only a few seconds as the climax swept over her. She couldn't fight the reflex but it was only for a second as she let out a soft whimper, jerking and pulsating and biting her lip to try to reign in the sensation. Robb let out a smothered gasp, his eyes never leaving her face and she felt lightheaded, dizzy to the point of maybe passing out. 

Or maybe the orgasm was really just that good.

He must be a mess now under the sleeping bag. When he came, it had to go somewhere. Maybe it was all over his stomach, dripping over the sides, or maybe all over his right hand. the thought disturbed her. Disturbed her in a kind of wicked, dirty way.  
Suddenly the guilt crept in again now that the pleasure had peaked. She clumsily adjusted her panties and tied up her shorts before turning away from him, lying once again on her side facing the boring wall. Shame reared its' ugly head as well. She just masturbated with her brother and she loved it. What sister does such a terrible, evil, gross thing?

A bad one.

Arya and Bran slept on, none the wiser.

Her gaze fell on the flowers. the pretty pink flowers Robb had found and picked for her because he knew how much she loved them. She again could feel the gentle touch behind her ear. What was so gross about it? She loved Robb. She loved him and wanted him.

Suddenly the touch behind her ear was real and her breath caught. Gentle, soft fingers tracing behind her ear, then down her neck, before withdrawing completely, leaving her longing for more. It was reassurance and it was understanding.

"Goodnight, Sansa." His whisper was close, sweet, deep, full of promise for the future. "Sweet dreams."

Sansa curled up in her sleeping bag, one hand reaching out to touch a flower, the other skimming over her lips where surely Robb would soon kiss, and she smiled her way into a perfect sleep.


End file.
